


The Tully Girl Who Mattered

by thespacebetween



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-25
Updated: 2013-01-25
Packaged: 2017-11-26 19:16:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/653544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thespacebetween/pseuds/thespacebetween
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lysa reflects on her relationship and perceived rivalry with her sister as she looks forward to a new chapter in her life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Tully Girl Who Mattered

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the GOT Exchange Comment Fic Meme in response to the prompt: "I was born to be your rival. And you mine. We're sisters, aren't we?" (quote from The Other Boleyn Girl). This fic is mostly just Lysa being introspective instead of having much of a plot, but I find Lysa to be a fascinating character, so I hope you enjoy this little character study of Lysa and her relationship with her sister.

At last, Lysa had won something. She was going to King’s Landing to join her husband who would be the Hand of the King. Jon Arryn was neither as young nor as good looking as her sister’s husband, but Lysa was going to be one of the most important ladies in Westeros, second only to the queen. Catelyn, however, was being sent to the North were she would reign as lady over a frozen and remote castle. No one of consequence would care who Catelyn Stark was or what she thought. Finally, Lysa was going to be the Tully girl who mattered- if not in the eyes of her family, then in the eyes of Westeros.

The only other time that Lysa had felt like she mattered as much as her sister was when she was still a girl and her mother was alive. In those idyllic days Mother would praise Catelyn’s tiny stitches in her embroidery, but then would spend just as much time admiring how lovely Lysa looked in her new frock and how neat Lysa’s letters were, even though she was just learning how to form them. After her mother’s death, nothing was the same. Father withdrew into himself and couldn’t spare a thought for any of his children for many months.

When Hoster Tully emerged from his grief, he saw how his eldest daughter had ensured the smooth running of Riverrun (as much as any nine year old could) in the absence of her parents. From then on Father seemed to rely on Cat while barely giving Lysa a second glance. He made sure that the servants knew to go to Catelyn when they had questions about household affairs. By the time she was twelve Catelyn had essentially taken over as Lady of Riverrun, managing the household efficiently and with grace, keeping accounts in order and welcoming the bannermen who came to Riverrun. As they grew older, Lysa saw how their father would summon Cat to his chambers to discuss important manners and how he would ask her for her advice on how best to handle disputes between his bannermen. Lysa doubted that her father remembered that she existed except when she was in his presence. He didn’t even appear to be spending much time looking for a suitable marriage for her.

Lysa didn’t want Brandon Stark, but she resented the fact that Father had arranged such a good match for her sister. Brandon Stark would be Lord of Winterfell and Warden of the North one day. He was handsome and charming, like a hero from the songs, and he always had a smile on his lips and a laugh behind his eyes. It was not that Lysa wanted to marry Brandon Stark- no, she would never want anyone other than her dear Petyr. She just wished her father had cared about her enough to look for an equally impressive match for her. Yes, in all things Catelyn was the priority while Lysa remained an afterthought.

Even Edmure seemed to prefer Cat’s company to her own. After their mother died, he clung to Catelyn skirts and followed her around everywhere. As children the three Tully siblings were thick as thieves and spent many a happy afternoon playing by the river and running through the godswood. Lysa never doubted that her brother loved her, but he still would run to Catelyn with every little hurt. When he was sick, it was Catelyn whose name he’d cry. When he accomplished something in the training yard or in the maester’s lessons, it was Catelyn whom he would seek out to share in his triumph.

Petyr’s preference for Catelyn hurt the most because Catelyn didn’t even see it while it was so painfully obvious to Lysa. When they played at kissing in the godswood, it seemed like Petyr was always so eager for Catelyn to take her turn at kissing him while he barely seemed to care when it was Lysa’s turn. Petyr would always ask Catelyn to dance first when there was feasting in the Great Hall which to most would appear to be Catelyn receiving the proper respect she was due as the eldest daughter, but Lysa could see the truth in Petyr’s eyes. After the nights that Lysa had spent in Petyr’s bed, she believed that Petyr’s affections had changed. She had given him her maidenhead. How could he not love her now?

Lysa was overjoyed when she discovered herself to be with child. It seemed as if she had finally won something over Catelyn. Lysa had won Petyr. Petyr had loved Cat first, but surely once he knew that she was carrying his child, he would love her more than he had ever loved Cat. For a brief happy moment, Lysa thought that she might at last have something that Cat did not. She would have Petyr’s child. She would be happily married and settled as mistress of her own household before her elder sister. But Lysa was denied even that small victory.

That loss hurt all the more when Catelyn had her son while Lysa’s marriage proved fruitless. Lysa and Catelyn had only had a fortnight with their husbands, but Catelyn had succeeded in providing an heir for her husband while Lysa remained childless. The wound grew as Lysa observed how naturally Cat seemed to take to motherhood. Seeing Cat with Robb, comforting him and singing to him, when Lysa had been robbed of her child with Petyr was like a dagger in the heart.

The worst part of it all was that Catelyn seemed so unaware of this competition that existed between them. She won everything so effortlessly. It was as if Lysa was the only one who knew the truth of the matter- that they were rivals, no matter how much they loved each other. How could they be anything other than rivals- two sisters so close in age?

None of that seemed to matter now. Lysa and Catelyn had reached the inn at the crossroads. From here Catelyn would turn north and go to join her husband at Winterfell while Lysa would journey south to her husband at King’s Landing. Here at the crossroads, Lysa was able to put aside the rivalry of the past and embrace her sister in a fond farewell, secure in the knowledge that in the end, Lysa would be the Tully girl that mattered. She would be the Tully girl that people remembered.


End file.
